I Feel Wicked!

I got a call from my sweet sis Adie:
"We have two extra tickets to Wicked for this Friday. Would you like to go?"
What? a free ticket to Wicked?. . .Is Elphaba Green? (That is what I wish I had said if I had been familiar with the play, but since I had never seen it before I said, "Wow, let me check!" definitely not as clever, but as Alli says, I must maintain blogger integrity.

Needless to say I found myself driving to LA on Friday for a chance to see the much acclaimed Wicked.

We all met out at the Pantages for the big event. Here is a shot of Barbara, Dad and Rob (their chaperone--doesn't this shot look like he is?). Notice Dad is very serious and keeping his hands to himself.

As always, Scott and Adie looked great. I have decided that Scott should run for office. It seems that everywhere we go, Scott seems to know someone. When were taking a group shot some women jumped into the shot, we were all bewildered and come to find out she knew Scott. Then, when sitting in the theater, he knew the people sitting in front of us. However, I have decided that I won't be impressed until he can introduce me to Bono. . . Work on that one for me will you big brother?

When entering the theater I wanted to record the moment. "Hey dad, will you take a picture of Rob and I."

"Sure!" dad said, after handing him the camera and pointing out which button to push (my dad gets exasperated when it comes to technology) Rob and I sat where we could get the stage in the background. Just as dad was about to take the picture, a petite usher approached us,"Um please put your camera away, and don't take any photographs."

"Who says?" my dad said in a voice that was as intimidating as he could muster. The usher looked at him with wide eyes and Barbara put her head in her lap. Once everyone began to laugh, the usher shuffled away nervously. My dad did this soley for Barbara. He likes to tease her and keep her on her toes. She doesn't know quite how to read him yet, and he enjoys her expressions.

"Oh just take the picture, just make sure he isn't looking" says the lady behind us. She flashes us her camera showing her support. We agree feeling that we have the right to disobey this ridiculously unfair rule enforced by this enemy army of vested ushers. I look up the aisle to try to locate the usher and encourage my dad to take the picture. "Go ahead dad, just turn the flash off an take it." My dad looks at me with a quizzical expression that says, "Huh?"
"Oh yea, let me do it." I hand the camera back to my dad and look up the aisle for the usher.
"Okay dad, take the picture!"

SNAP, great shot! almost immediately,
"Um excuse me, I warned you not to take any photos. . . will you please follow me to check in your camera?" Where did that guy come from? Did he drop down from the ceiling? He was smug! I didn't like his attitude.

"He didn't warn us," my brother mumbles in such a way that only I can hear, as he stands to go back to his seat. He motions that I should follow. Standing there looking at my family for support, they stare back at me with vacant expressions.

"Here, I will erase the picture," I flash him my camera showing the dark fuzzy picture was gone.

"Chu need to follow me. Come now." I look back at my brother who is now back to his seat. He is obviously civilly disobeying. Yea, it is easy for him, it isn't his camera. I look back at my family, still silent. I look at the lady behind us, her once supportive voice was now squelched by the vested soldier.

Should I chose to disobey the petite usher and exercise my rights? or should meekly follow? HMMMMM I could see myself being hauled out of the theater by the manager, with a "No show for YOU!" So humbly, I followed the usher, my head held high as I was escorted out of the theater. "I thought we couldn't take pictures with the flash," I lied, trying to excuse my defiance.

"There are signs all over warning you!" he says as he points to a sign on the wall. He was really hung up on that word "Warn!" ewwwww scarey! He didn't intimidate me with his rhetoric, Actually the sign is asking us and rather politely, I quote, "Please do not take pictures inside the theater." I think about telling him this and then decide against it.

"I was probably admiring the art deco interior when we passed that sign and didn't notice it," I said nonchalantly. He was unimpressed by my knowledge of the Pantages interior, or figured I didn't know what I was talking about, and continued steadfastly to his destination.

This guy must have been new. You can always tell the people that are new. They can't think for themselves. I just wanted a break, to return back to my seat, couldn't he pardon me? . . .No, not the new guy.

"I don't want to miss the first act, will this take a long time?"

"It won't take long," he says as he scurries through the empty lobby.

Once I get to the counter to fill out my claim slip, a man turns around to leave and says,"Oh they got you too huh!" I smile and nod yes as we both share a common understanding of the injustice of it all. After I fill out the slip to turn in my camera, I snap a picture of the guy at the counter, the one who is confiscating my camera, before I hand it over to him.

"Hey, can I get a picture of you? I want to show my dad, The Big Guy, who it was that took my camera." With a nervous smile, he claims he is the middle man, he isn't responsible. Um hummmm, your either for us or against us, I think as I take my yellow copy of the claim check and return to the theater.

As I walked down the aisle, back to my seat, I see the theater was lit by a about a hundred flashing digital camera LCD screens, and I think to myself, those vested ushers sure have their work cut out for them. My once felt irritation turned to a type of giddy empathy-this job for him is like the laundry, no matter how hard he works at it, it's never done--as I passed the petite usher I smiled.